GoT and The Witcher: A New Order
by Macattack22
Summary: A defective portal lands Geralt in Westeros, a land full of corruption and deceit and political intrigue. How will Geralt, a witcher with code to not get involved in politics, make his way in the court of the Red Keep?
1. Chapter 1

GoT & Witcher Crossover

Geralt knew the portal wasn't stable. Yet he still jumped through, the Wild Hunt steady on his trail. Ciri had opened two portals for them to escape, hoping that they both led to other locations within their world. Yet here Geralt was, tumbling from the sky, right into a lush garden.

"Argh!" Geralt cried as he flew through Ciri's portal. He landed with a thud right onto the hard stone. High pitched screams and gasps surrounded him.

Geralt groaned as he struggled to rise, sword still in hand. He knew the portal had closed when his medallion stopped pulsing.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a young woman with another young lady at her side. By their looks, they were nobles, yet they didn't seem to be afraid of him. "Guards!"

Geralt sheathed his sword. "Apologies, I seem to be—," Geralt was cut off by several well armored guards in white drawing their swords. "Damn. No use fighting them off." One guard punched him in the face then kneed him in the groin. Geralt doubled over as he was carried off to what he assumed would be the dungeon.

The small council meeting had an unusual guest this time: King Joffrey. There were important matters to discuss, but Joffrey was only concerned with the strange man who'd interrupted his betrothed's walk with Sansa Stark. And of course, Margery herself attended the council too.

"Your Grace, what do you suggest we do with this…prisoner?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked. The council waited for Joffrey's answer.

"I say we execute him and hang him from the ramparts!"

Margery touched Joffrey's arm. "My love, let us show the vagabond mercy. At least see why he's here. He's likely some poor lost soul."

Joffrey sat back down, visibly calmer. "Fine, bring him to the throne room. We'll see about this there." Joffrey grabbed Margery's hand and walked out.

Cersei sighed. "Well, it seems this meeting is over. The throne room shall we?" She stood up clutching the long train of her dress and walked out.

The damp cell reeked of vomit and shit. At least it wasn't terribly cramped. Geralt had seen much worse than this. The only thing wrecking his nerves was what they might do to him. He knew nothing about this land and how justice was served, nor how long he might be here. He shut his eyes and tuned out those negative thoughts. Instead he thought about Yennefer, her wavy black hair and lilac and gooseberries. He wondered if lilac and gooseberries grew here. His train of thought was interrupted by the jingling of keys. The cell door clicked and swung open. Geralt's eyes quickly adjusted to the sudden light exposure.

"Get up," A rough voice growled. "King wants to see youse."

 _Oh boy, this is gonna go well,_ Geralt thought. He always hesitated to meet or work for nobles. Too often they'd disrespected and misjudged Geralt. He hoped maybe it would be different in this land.

The soldiers paraded him down several hallways before turning into a large throne room with a throne seemingly forged from iron swords. On it sat a boy no older than 16 with who Geralt assumed were his advisors flanking him. Closest to him was the same woman Geralt had seen in the garden. The guards stopped him several feet away from the steps to the throne.

"State your name stranger," the boy king commanded.

Geralt didn't dare disobey. There was something strange in that boy's eyes, something evil. "Geralt. And you? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this kingdom."

The boy scoffed. "I am Joffrey Baratheon, King of Westeros, and you will address me as Your Grace or not at all."

Geralt flinched. "Apologies, Your Grace. Yes, it's just Geralt."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "My fiancé tells me you somehow fell from the sky, sword in hand. Who are you?"

"I'm Geralt, a-a Witcher, Your Grace," Geralt heard the court murmur.

"A witcher? Like a male witch?" asked the girl from the garden.

"No, I kill monsters, like vampires, ghouls, and werewolves," Geralt shook his head. _Shit, I bet this place has nothing like that._

The King laughed loudly. "Ha! A jester isn't he? Perhaps we'll keep him as a fool!"

Margery chimed in. "My love, let's ask more questions first. Geralt, you were carrying two swords on your back. Why is that?"

"One is silver, for monsters," Joffrey sniggered. "The other…is steel for humans,"

The woman to the left of the throne commented. "I bet you know how to use them too?"

Geralt smiled a nasty grin. "Better than most men."

Joffrey glared at the woman. Based on her age and their identical hair, Geralt guessed that she was the king's mother. She continued. "Maybe this vagabond would like to prove his skills?"

The king jumped up in excitement. "Yes! An excellent proposal mother! This Geralt who claims to be the best will face off against my Kingsguard! Should he win, he'll be set free! Well there's a solution, now take him back to the cells, he reeks of shit."

Geralt smiled and bowed, having heard that particular insult more times than he could count. The guards escorted him back down to his damp cell until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

A day after his audience with the king, Geralt was escorted to the keep's courtyard by several guards. One stopped him in what looked like an armory.

"Grab some armor," The helmeted guard growled. Geralt looked over the armor. All of it was heavy and bulky, sure to restrict his movement.

He shook his head. "This won't do. Where's my armor?"

The guard growled and stalked off to retrieve Geralt's confiscated leather armor. Geralt slipped on the leather armor and gauntlets. He stretched a bit, working his cramped muscles. The guard held out his swords carelessly and Geralt strapped the buckle over his shoulder. Wordlessly, he gestured for Geralt to follow.

They arrived in large open space that reminded Geralt of Kaer Morhen's courtyard a little. Sitting in an ornate chair was the king, Joffrey. By his side were many of the same people in the throne room: his mother, an elderly robed man, a bald man, a very short, very ugly man, and the two woman from the garden, one of whom Geralt learned was Joffrey's betrothed. Geralt registered the smug grin on the king's face.

"Finally," said Joffrey. "Now we can see what you're worth, if anything. Now fight!" Joffrey clapped his hands and five guards with white cloaks appeared with swords drawn.

Geralt smiled a murderous grin and drew his own sword, only to find it was wooden. He heard Joffrey chuckle behind him. The first guard charged at him, sword swinging. Geralt swiftly parried the blow then whacked the man on the side. The rest charged at that moment. Geralt breathed in and relaxed his muscles. The guards didn't stand a chance as Geralt cut, or rather whacked them down one by one. The bout was over in less than five minutes and the guards lay rolling in pain and humiliation. Geralt bowed cynically. "Your Grace."

Joffrey and his court stared in shock as Geralt speedily defeated the guards. Joffrey smirked, clearly intrigued.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Somewhere far from here," Geralt answered.

"Have this man taken to a guest chamber. Clean him up. He's going to be my new fencing instructor." Joffrey rose and departed with Margaery on his heels. Geralt felt the eyes of the court on him. He noticed the girl from the garden staring and met her gaze. She blushed and turned away.

The unharmed guards grabbed Geralt and nudged him forward. They escorted him out of the courtyard after disarming him, and lead him through several hallways. He took the time to notice the elaborate tapestries gracing the walls. He knew by instinct this palace, even though well-kept, was at least 1,000 years old. Soon the guards pushed open the door to a very well kept chamber and left Geralt there.

Geralt took the time to examine the room. It was clear that very recently, someone, in particular, a female, had inhabited the room. He supposed that soon the belongings would be moved out. As he meddled around with some of the things, a few servants came in with a large wooden tub and filled it with water. They left soap and a scrubbing brush along with it. Once he was sure the blushing servants were gone, he stripped down and slipped into the warm bath. Geralt sighed as the warmth relaxed his joints. Since he'd been on the run with Ciri, he hadn't taken the time to bathe in weeks. With the thought, his mind fluttered back to Ciri. He sincerely hoped she was OK, that she landed somewhere familiar. Other than that, Geralt had no reason to worry about Ciri, she was well capable of taking care of herself. Whatever mess she'd landed in she'd figure it out. Geralt closed his eyes and sighed again. Yennefer would surely chew him out for this little misadventure.

As he was soaking in the makeshift bath, Geralt heard the door open. Instead of panicking, he tensed and left his eyes slightly open. The ginger-haired girl walked in and started collecting her belongings, not noticing Geralt's presence. Geralt let his hand splash the water. The girl jumped in fear and dropped her things.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't see you," The girl blushed, turning redder than a rose.

Geralt took a moment to register her body language. She was afraid. Terrified, really. Just not of him.

She lingered, staring at his scars. Geralt noticed. "What's your name?"

She looked away. "Sansa, my lord. Sansa Stark," She didn't seem to be afraid of Geralt, looking at him with curiosity. "You really aren't from Westeros, are you?"

Geralt shook his head. "Not in the slightest. But you clearly are. I gotta wonder, what's a young girl like you doing at a king's court?"

Sansa looked a bit shaken at the question. "Well… I-I was betrothed to Joffrey, but now I'm married to his uncle, Tyrion."

Geralt grimaced. By the looks of it, Tyrion was a good deal older than her.

Sansa smiled awkwardly. "Well again, I'm sorry for intruding on you…Geralt," She turned to leave, but Geralt stopped her.

"Wait. This is trivial, but will you hand me that towel over there?"

Sansa slowly turned back around and made her way over to the bed where the tower was resting. She was slow and cautious, making Geralt even more aware of the emotional torture she'd suffered. She brought the towel over to the bath. She hesitated for a moment, staring again at Geralt's scars. He thought that for a brief moment her eyes flashed down to below the water. She handed him the towel and slowly made her way out. Geralt waited awhile before getting out of the bath. He rubbed himself dry and put on the strange clothes left on the bed for him. He slowly tried to piece together things. If Sansa was engaged to Joffrey, but Joffrey is now engaged to someone else, something clearly happened there. Whatever it was, it clearly left poor Sansa emotionally damaged. So who was Tyrion? Geralt promised himself he'd find out, but after a long night of sleep in a very comfortable bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt was awakened by the steady stream of sunlight through the curtains. He groaned and slowly climbed from the bed. He got dressed and threw on the golden leather jacket that he had no doubt Joffrey had given him. Geralt frowned as he noticed the long, stiff sleeves of the jacket. He took one of the knives left with his breakfast and butchered the sleeves to make them shorter. Satisfied with his somewhat clumsy work, Geralt rolled up the sleeves and dug into the still hot breakfast. He heard a small knock on the door right before it swung open. The same small, ugly man with stunted limbs who was in Joffrey's court wobbled in. He sat right across from Geralt, an unshakeable air of confidence, perhaps even arrogance, about him.

"Morning, Geralt," The man reached across for the pitcher of wine and poured himself a glass. "I don't think we've meet…properly, that is. I am Tyrion Lannister, H-, former Hand of the King and his uncle."

"Hand? Seemed like the King had two very capable hands. Or did he lose one last night?" Geralt retorted.

"A very funny jest, Geralt. Just don't let Joffrey hear anything like that."

Geralt snorted. "And I should fear a spoiled boy why?"

Tyrion leaned forward. "That is precisely why you should fear him. He is spoiled and always gets what he wants. Always. And anyone who opposes him is either humiliated or…hanged. So yes Geralt, watch your words, because you'll end up regretting them."

Geralt stared at the little monstrosity warning him and carelessly drinking wine. No one ever information for free, he knew from years of negotiating. "Why are you telling me this? You want something, don't you?"

Tyrion chuckled. "Ah, Geralt! You dishonor me! Why should I have an agenda in order to potentially save your hide?"

Geralt raised his eyebrows and frowned. Tyrion sighed.

"Alright, you really have quite an unnerving stare, you know. Anyways, I do have something someone of your…talents could help me with. In return, I help keep you alive at this court."

Geralt groaned. "Go on then, tell me what this task consists of before I lose interest." Geralt crossed his arms after pushing away the remnants of his breakfast.

"Look after Sansa Stark, my wife. Yes, I know, disgusting isn't it? The marriage was forced by my father, Tywin Lannister, meaning I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," Geralt frowned. "Fine. So why am I protecting her, you seem to be perfectly capable."

Tyrion rolled his eyes and sighed. "Geralt, you are one tough egg to crack. OK. Remember when you told us your profession?" Geralt nodded. "You told us that you kill monsters, protect people from them, right? This court, Geralt, is full of monsters, who will kill anyone that stands in their way. They will devour poor Sansa, a sheep among lions. I ask that you help her." Tyrion downed another cup of wine.

"I have still have questions though and I won't agree to this until they're answered."

"Fire away then."

"How did Sansa end up here? She told me that she was betrothed to Joffrey, but he's marrying someone else. Why?"

Tyrion sighed. "My, my things are about to get complicated. Where to start? Well, a few years ago, Joffrey's predecessor appointed Sansa's father, Lord Eddard, to be his Hand, that is, his closest advisor. The King died, and…well there were some disagreements on who was the rightful heir, so Eddard was charged with treason and beheaded. But you see, Eddard had a son as well, Robb Stark, who declared war and named himself King in the North. So Sansa was kept here as a bargaining chip, and an agreement was made to return her to her family, if they released my brother, Jaime, and swore fealty to Joffrey. Are you following this?"

Geralt sighed. "Yeah, this is complicated. Continue."

"Well, my father Tywin Lannister decided he got sick of wasting troops warring with the Starks, so he arranged Robb's assassination at his uncle's wedding, along with his mother, wife, and unborn child, and also a good amount of northern troops. So Sansa marrying Joffrey no longer was significant. Instead, Margaery of House Tyrell was a better fit, with their support of Lannister family and the crown. But, in the twisted logic of my father, I was married to Sansa, as she still is the heir to Winterfell, therefore to the North. Get it now?"

Geralt sighed. He normally didn't drink this early, but after all that he felt compelled to down a glass. "Yeah, I guess. But what exactly do you want me to do? Murder King Joffrey and his court?"

"No. I want you to do what you deem necessary. I trust whatever that may be won't result in murder. Whatever you decide to do, make sure Sansa lives."

"Alright fine. So I'm to be a glorified bodyguard? Great. You probably don't know this but in my line of work, I'm not accustomed to—,"

"Not being paid, yes I already figured that. Here in Westeros, us Lannisters are famous for always paying our debts. Anything you do to keep Sansa safe shall be rewarded five times over, this I swear on my honor."

Geralt frowned. "Right. Anyone I should look out for in particular?"

Tyrion sighed with relief. "Well for starters, Joffrey. He seems to like you, but do anything stupid and you'll be on his shit list in a heartbeat. Next, my father, Tywin. He is the one with the most power, so everything Joffrey does usually has Tywin behind it. If he sees you as a threat, which I'm sure he already does, he will eliminate you. Then there's my dear sister, Cersei, the Queen Regent. One piece of advice: stay away from her at all costs. You are an imminent threat, so she will either try to win you over or kill you. Be very careful what you say as well. Also beware of Varys, the eunuch. He's bald, easily recognizable and hears and knows everything. Lastly, the Tyrells. Margaery seems nice enough, but her family craves the crown. They have their ways, and do not stand between them and what they want. There you have it, basically trust no one," Tyrion finished a third cup of wine.

Geralt's head was swimming with everything he'd heard. He'd known plenty of corrupt nobles and court intrigues, but damn he was in for a hell of a ride. "Great Mother Melitiele, what the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Tyrion stood and headed for the door. "The game of thrones, Geralt. Here you win… or you die."


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt headed down the halls to the same courtyard where he faced the Kingsguard in front of King Joffrey. He was given his swords back, but was instructed to use wooden swords for sparring with Joffrey. As he walked down the halls, he spotted the golden-haired queen coming toward him. _Shit, not good,_ Geralt thought, remembering Tyrion's words. Cersei smiled and stopped to greet him.

"Good morning, Geralt. Sleep well last night?"

Geralt bowed slightly. "Better than I did in the dungeons, your Grace."

Cersei chuckled. "Good. You look well, gold suits you."

From years of dealing with just people in general, Geralt knew they had to be humored, especially royals. "You honor me Your Grace."

Cersei smiled and moved closer. Geralt could clearly smell her flowery perfume. "Geralt, seeing as you're…new here, allow me to offer a word of warning: harm my son today and you will pay for it."

Geralt looked the queen in the eyes. "Hate to break it to you, but he will get some bruises and cuts. After all, this is what he signed up for, Your Grace," Geralt brushed past Cersei, sensing her shock, and fairly certain he'd made a new enemy.

Geralt finally arrived at the courtyard, where Joffrey was stretching. Geralt quickly registered everyone in attendance: an elder man who he suspected was Tywin Lannister, Margaery, the bald eunuch called Varys, and Tyrion and Sansa. He also took in all escape routes, in case something went terribly wrong.

"Geralt! Finally, I was starting to get bored. Let's begin, shall we?" Joffrey twirled the wooden sword in his hand, eager to start.

Geralt looked at the court then back at Joffrey. "Of course, Your Grace," Geralt bowed and drew the sparring sword. "First let's start off with the Whirl." Geralt demonstrated by starting from his side then twisting up into a high guard. "Try that first."

Joffrey attempted to do the same, but clumsily dropped the sword. His face grew red. Geralt quickly corrected him. "Don't worry, we'll just go back a bit. Let's work on your grip." Geralt showed him where to place his hands on the hilt.

"Why two hands?" Joffrey asked.

"Because you get a better grip and there's more power in a single swing, more torque for a killing blow," Geralt saw Joffrey's grin at that. "Alright, that's good. Now footwork, left foot in front, knees slightly bent."

Joffrey easily copied. His face grew frustrated. "This is trivial. I asked you to teach me to fight like you, not to coddle me like a babe."

Geralt kept a blank face. "What I do is not easy, your Grace. It is not something to anyone can learn in a few weeks. I myself spent years perfecting my craft."

Joffrey snorted. "Well it's a good thing you and I are not the same, isn't it? I am the King of Westeros and you are a flea-bitten vagabond. You will teach me and I will learn. At _my_ pace, Geralt. Now let's start again."

Geralt grimaced. It took a tremendous amount of effort not to slap the young king across the face. He sighed. "As you wish, your Grace," Geralt could feel the eyes of the court on him. "Right. Let's take things slower this time. The Snake, this time. Just start with one hand and end with two." Geralt demonstrated.

Joffrey attempted the rather simple move with ease this time. A smug look crossed his face. He looked to Margaery for approval. "Did you see that my love? I'll be just as good as my uncle Jaime as this rate."

Margaery feigned a smile. "Yes my love, you will be the greatest warrior Westeros has ever seen." Geralt looked at Margaery. He knew her attitude and optimism was fake, but it seemed to have a pacifying effect on Joffrey.

"Very good, your Grace. Now you'll need to repeat it over and over."

Joffrey scoffed. "What?! But that was perfect!"

"Beginners' luck, I'd call it. You must do it over and over until it becomes second nature, an instinctive move," Geralt twirled and went into a pirouette. "Once you master that, you can move into a pirouette."

Joffrey still remained disappointed. "Whatever. We're through for today. Same time tomorrow, same place." Joffrey left the courtyard with Margaery trailing behind him. The court stood, still staring at Geralt. _They want a show_ , Geralt thought. He twirled into a common practice movement he'd learned so many years ago at Kaer Morhen and taught to Ciri. His movements were swift and smooth, imbedded into his body, as instinctive as breathing. He finished in a low guard position, seeing the faces of the king's court. Some were intrigued and impressed, others were simply impassive. The only one smiling was Tyrion.

"Bravo, Geralt! Quite a warrior, isn't he Sansa?"

Sansa looked down, not meeting Tyrion's nor Geralt's eyes. "Yes, he is a fine warrior."

"Indeed. So fine that I think we should have dinner with him, don't you think?"

Sansa nodded, clearly not eager to say anything. Geralt walked over to where they were sitting. "I'd be honored, Lord Tyrion."

"He is not a Lord, yet not until he inherits land," the older man interrupted. His balding blond hair suggested he was related to the king. "I am Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and his grandfather. I suppose my son here didn't have the courtesy to introduce me."

Geralt bowed. He felt he would be sick of bowing after he was done here. "Quite the opposite, my lord."

"Good. It would be wise for you to know me, and even wiser to know what I am capable of." Lord Tywin stood and walked off, not before measuring Geralt's appearance.

Tyrion and Sansa stood. "Well, now that you've had the pleasure of being acquainted with my father, tonight in our chambers?"

"Mhm. Sure, tonight," Geralt bowed, wondering what was so important that Tyrion wanted to discuss.


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt stepped out of the bath and began dressing. The servants had left various scents and perfumes, but they all smelt like nothing to Geralt. The only scent he wanted to smell at the moment was the lilac and gooseberries of Yennefer. He headed out his room, not before arming himself, and down to Tyrion's chambers. He found Tyrion and Sansa sitting at a table piled with food and wine.

Tyrion gestured for him to sit. "Hullo, Geralt. Have a seat, please."

Sansa stood and curtsied. "Ser Geralt."

Geralt sat and began preparing his plate. "Thank you, but I'm no knight. So, I reckon there is a reason for this dinner? I'm just dying to hear it."

Tyrion chuckled. "Ah, Geralt, you and your jokes. Before we begin, why don't you tell us some things about yourself? I find that if I wish to do business with someone, I'd like to know a few things about them."

Geralt sipped on wine and looked at Sansa. "Well, where I'm from, I have a daughter. She's about your age, Sansa, ashen hair and the biggest green eyes you'd ever seen. I adopted her, of course. I'm…not able to have children."

"Really? Such a man as yourself, I would think you to be virile."

"I'm sure at one point I was, just not anymore."

"Why do you have cat eyes?" Sansa blurted out, immediately feeling regret. "A-apologies, ser. I did not mean to be rude."

"At least you asked instead of insulting me. I am the way I am because of magic experiments, which made me faster than most men, and able to see, hear, and smell things no one else could."

"Magic? Magic exists in your world?" Sansa asked, excited. Tyrion also leaned forward in anticipation.

"Yeah, definitely. My…wife is a very powerful, very beautiful magic user: a sorceress. Yennefer is her name," Geralt sighed, missing the smell of her hair and the feeling of her skin against his.

"Well, I do hope you return to her soon, my friend," Tyrion raised a glass to him then drunk from it. Sansa still stared at Geralt's eyes, curious as to what type of magic could give someone cat eyes. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we? I usually don't act on these type of things, these…abstract feelings, but I feel that something is afoot. With Joffrey's wedding approaching, something just doesn't feel right."

Geralt frowned. "Just what are you suggesting is wrong?"

"I feel that something may go horribly wrong at Joffrey's wedding. After all, Westeros does have a history of spoiled weddings, no offense my lady,"

Sansa gave Tyrion a pained look. "The occasion is to take place almost a week from now, and should anything go wrong, Sansa's safety is your priority."

"And the King? It might look bad if I side with the opposing family."

"It also might look bad for your head to put on a pike," Tyrion retorted. "Apologies, Geralt, but this is a very serious matter, in case you weren't aware."

"I've noticed."

"Good. I have a plan. I'm going to propose that Joffrey make you a member of his Kingsguard, that way you'll have protection, an immunity of sorts."

Geralt nearly choked on his wine. "What? Mean to tell me I'll have to wear that clunky armor and a white cloak? If someone's going to harm Joffrey, might as well put a moving bullseye on my back."

"Don't worry, this is just to gain you Joff's trust. Afterwards…well, we'll figure something out."

"Fine. I'd get some sleep then," Geralt announced, finishing his meal and standing. "Goodnight, Tyrion. Sansa." Tyrion stood as well, escorting Geralt to the door. Geralt headed towards his own chambers, still wondering what to make do of this predicament. If Tyrion suspected something unusual to happen, who's to say he wouldn't be behind it? _Best I just trust him, since I can't trust anyone else,_ Geralt thought. He arrived to his room and the heavy scent of strong perfume. He turned the corner to find the Queen Regent lighting candles.

"Ah, you're finally here Geralt. Go on, make yourself comfortable." Cersei continued to slowly light more candles as Geralt cautiously removed his golden jacket.

"Are you lost? Can I help you find what you're looking for so I can sleep in peace?"

Cersei chuckled. "Unless you can reverse time, no, I don't think you can," She walked to where Geralt was standing. "But you can help me with something…personal." Cersei began unfastening Geralt's shirt and rubbing his chest. "You can tell me what Tyrion is up to, and I will give you this," Cersei removed her thin dress to reveal her completely naked body. Geralt looked at her in disgust. She was attractive, but she was rather average compared to Triss or Yennefer.

"Hope you don't plan on winning me over like this. If so, you're dead wrong."

Cersei pressed herself against Geralt, moving his hands to her breasts. Geralt had two thoughts in that moment: strangle her now and save some trouble or go along with the motions. Neither sounded great at the moment. "You don't want to make an enemy Geralt. I can…ensure you'll be given lands, a lordship, a beautiful bride…all without teaching Joffrey another day."

 _Shit. Shit shit shit,_ Geralt thought as his hands were forced to rub Cersei's body. He could smell her sexual pheromones wafting off her, basically craving his body. "I, uh, don't need any of those things. So you can put your clothes back on, stop acting like a whore, and leave my room. Now." _Shit._

Cersei scoffed and pushed Geralt's hands off her. She picked up her dress off the floor and put it back on, her mission clearly failed. She looked Geralt in the eyes. "You will regret your words, Geralt. I will make both you and Tyrion swallow them, I swear it on the Seven." Cersei stormed out and slammed the door shut behind her. Geralt sighed and tried to put out the candles with the Aard symbol, but failed the first time. He thought he'd sensed it, but he wasn't sure if magic was present or not. He felt a faint presence of it, after all, some had to exist for the portal to open here, but the presence must have been weaker in the palace. Geralt went to bed, trying not to think about the powerful new enemy he'd just made.


	6. Chapter 6

The day of Joffrey's wedding, Geralt woke early. Maidens interrupted him as he started to dress. They swiftly filed in and began buzzing around.

"What the-?" Geralt was cut off by several women forcing him to sit, grabbing and yanking at his hair. A robust, elderly woman spoke loudly and began filling a tub.

"Pardons, ser, but you must be presentable. Today is King Joffrey's wedding, and you should at least look half-way decent," She finished filling the tub. "Let these girls clean you up, then we'll send Lord Tyrion for you."

Geralt grumbled as the women shaved him and scrubbed him raw. Finally they finished and left just as quickly as they came in. They left Geralt his clothes, which were scented with a strong musk. He dressed and sat to eat the piping hot breakfast left for him. He secured his swords to his back and went out into the hallway, where Tyrion and Sansa waited for him.

"Well, well, took you long enough. I trust you cleaned up well?"

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, meaning a whole legion of women forcing me in a tub and holding a razor to my neck."

Tyrion chuckled as they started down the hall. "I must say, clean-shaven suits you just as well as a beard. Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, you know, eat and drink to your heart's content. Just don't forget what I mentioned earlier."

Geralt nodded. As they came closer to the wedding space, the noise and traffic of nobles became louder and more crowded. Tyrion and Sansa split from him to sit at their places of honor: Tyrion next to Tywin and Sansa at the end of the table. Joffrey and Margaery sat together, Margaery looking absolutely radiant. Geralt swiftly looked around to spy any exits and vantage points. He spotted Jaime Lannister in his Kingsguard armor and golden hand.

"What happened?" Geralt asked. Jaime looked at him confused. "To your hand I mean."

Jaime stared at him, trying to refrain from slapping him. "I lost it when I was…held captive as a prisoner of war."

"Interesting way to solve that problem. I once heard of a dwarf who lost his eyes and put rubies in their place. He couldn't see a damn thing, but apparently it looked tasteful."

Jaime chuckled. "Sounds like something my brother would do. Tell me, Geralt, have you enjoyed teaching my nephew to kill?"

"No one can teach killing, just how to do it more effectively. Joffrey doesn't need to really know, when he has people to do it for him."

"I suppose not, but he may as well find some use for that sword of his," Jaime scoffed. "Widow's Wail, he named it. A name it'll never live up to."

Geralt didn't respond, not knowing how Jaime might respond.

"What about your swords, Geralt? You give them names too?"

Geralt shook his head. "No, never. I change them too often to give it a second thought."

Jaime sighed, seemingly distracted by an underlying matter. "Shame. Well, enjoy the wedding and the entertainment. It won't last long."

Geralt gave him a slight bow and moved on. He came to a table laden with all sorts of fruits, breads, and cheeses. He helped himself to fireplums and the goat cheese and drunk a few glasses of the dry Arbor vintage. The taste of the wine was unlike any he'd tasted before, since he'd been used to watered-down beer and whiskey. A few noble men and women passed by him, a couple giggling and sneaking glances, others looked at him in disgust and suspense. He sat alone to watch the Joffrey's entertainment began. Five dwarves filed out of a lion's mouth, dressed as what Geralt assumed were the Five Kings mentioned in the title. The play was satirical, but mostly insulting, with suggestive and offensive actions that mostly Joffrey laughed at. The spectacle was disgusting, even if he didn't quite understand why it was considered hilarious. The rest of the crowd applauded in courtesy once the performance was done. Joffrey said some words that Geralt thought were probably addressed to Tyrion. He moved closer to hear. Joffrey walked over to Tyrion's seat and poured wine on his head.

"Uncle, you can be my cupbearer, seeing as you're too cowardly to fight."

Tyrion stood and walked over to Joffrey, being handed his goblet.

"What good is an empty cup? Fill it," Joffrey demanded. Tyrion, absolutely smoldering, reluctantly filled the glass. "Kneel before your king," Tyrion silently refused, still offering him the glass. "I said kneel!"

Geralt tensed up, expecting Joffrey to blow his top, when Margaery broke the tension.

"Look, the pie!"

And sure enough, four men came bearing an enormous, elaborate pie, which looked more like a cake. Joffrey turned his attention away from Tyrion for the moment to cut it. Seeing Tyrion and Sansa attempting to leave, Geralt prepared himself to go as well. Servants served the queen and the king promptly. Margaery, who Geralt thought looked awfully smug, served Joffrey his pie.

"Uncle," Joffrey called, spotting Tyrion and Sansa trying to leave. "Where are you going?"

Tyrion stopped. "I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, your Grace."

"No, no you won't. You're perfect as you are. Serve me my wine."

Geralt was certain he saw Tyrion give a look like a plea for help. He didn't dare move.

"Well, hurry up, the pie is dry. Needs washing down."

Tyrion served him wine and again attempted to leave. "If it please your Grace, the Lady Sansa is very tired."

Joffrey attempted to stop them, but began coughing violently. He turned to his wife, visibly choking. Geralt stood, ready to act.

Joffrey coughed and gasped even more, and fell to ground, his family and subjects clamoring. Jaime and Cersei rushed to him to help. Geralt moved closer, where he see the boy was coughing up blood. He pushed Jaime aside and knelt by the queen, who was panicking.

"He's choking!" Cersei yelled. "Help him! What is it Joff?"

With what was his last action, he pointed at Tyrion, who had served him his wine. The King got visibly worse, his face turning a splotchy red, and blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Geralt had seen people choke and be strangled before, but this clearly wasn't that. Joffrey stopped struggling and eventually breathed his last. Cersei began to cry as her first-born died in her arms. Geralt felt a pang of sympathy, even though he certainly didn't like her. No mother should have to watch their child die that way. Geralt looked up at Tyrion, who looked just as confused and in panic as the clamoring crowd did. Geralt already knew he didn't poison the boy, otherwise he would have been far from King's Landing. Their eyes met and Geralt remembered their deal. He looked to Sansa's spot to realize she was gone. He stood to find her, but not before hearing Cersei place the blame solely on Tyrion.

"He did this. He poisoned my son, your king. Take him. Take him!" Cersei screamed at the Kingsguard, who promptly seized Tyrion. Geralt ran to find Sansa, where she had went. He gave one last look to Tyrion, silently promising to return for him.

Geralt swiftly ran after the fool who had seized Sansa and ran from the wedding. He tried to follow as quietly as possible and without trying to be spotted by them. A loud bell chimed as Geralt followed Sansa and the fool down to the docks. He hid before they saw him and watched as they got in a boat rowed out to the open bay. Geralt frantically looked around for a boat he could follow them in, but found none.

"Damn. Guess I'll just have to get wet." Geralt took off the gold jacket and climbed in the chilly water to swim after them. After some time, he wished he had a Killer Whale potion on him. Even though he followed relatively close behind, neither Sansa nor the fool who rowed the boat spotted him, likely because of the heavy fog. Eventually the two came to a ship that seemed to be anchored just for the purpose of their escape. Sansa stood up and climbed into the larger ship. _Shit,_ Geralt thought. He contemplated climbing onto the deck himself, when the fool was shot by arrows. He was sure he heard a name beforehand: Baelish or something like that. Geralt waited for the ship to depart before climbing into the rowboat with the dead fool.

"Damn. Didn't deserve to die like that." Geralt mumbled. Nonetheless, he pushed the body into the bay and rowed back to the Red Keep.


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt returned to Red Keep to find it locked down. The guard was doubled, and every entrance was blocked. He attempted to enter by reasoning with the Gold Cloaks.

"Might I enter? I have business with the court, if you don't mind."

"Nope. Keep's on lockdown, no one's allowed in, so move along."

Geralt sighed. He formed the Axii sign with his hands. "You'll step aside and let me in or else."

The two guards stepped aside in trance. "Right. Go on in."

Geralt snuck past a few dosing guards. He made a turn to enter the throne room when he saw several more gold cloaks coming toward him.

"Stop! Stop right there you brigand!" The men drew their swords and ran towards him.

Geralt drew his as well and waited for them to practically walk into his blades. Right before the guards could attack, someone spoke.

"Enough! Do him no harm."

Several Lannister guards appeared with torches, and behind them was no other than Tywin Lannister.

"Geralt, you're out a bit late aren't you? Surely you must be here to mourn your protegee?" The tone of his voice clearly hinted to play along.

"Right. Of course, my lord. Just had a hard time getting in."

"Of course. Walk with me. Alone," The Lannister guards stayed behind, handing Tywin a torch before he and Geralt walked away. As soon as they were out of earshot, he spoke again. "You do understand what went on at my grandson's wedding?"

"Yes. He choked to death."

Tywin scoffed. "Please, don't play stupid with me. The boy was poisoned. And do you know who's been blamed?"

"Tyrion…and Sansa. Who had nothing to do with it."

"You don't think so? Who else had better reason?"

"Probably no one, but I've heard Joffrey wasn't exactly well liked."

"That's true. The boy was a brute, hot-headed and belligerent. But still, he was a Lannister and his death mustn't go unavenged. And Cersei will not rest until then."

Geralt remained silent as the came to the Tower of the Hand. Of course, he suspected Tywin was about to ask him to do something.

"There will be a trial for Tyrion. He will likely be found guilty and promptly executed."

Geralt looked at him disgusted. "He's your son. You won't really execute him, will you?"

Tywin sighed. "It's not actually up to me, but I suspect his brother Jaime will try some stunt to save his miserable little life. The point is, there will be witnesses for the trial, so I leave you with this: You can testify for the Crown, and be left in peace, perhaps even given a knighthood or a position in the Kingsguard, or you can testify for Tyrion. In that case, it is unlikely you will leave King's Landing alive. Is that clear?"

Geralt understood now. It wasn't a favor Tywin was asking, it was a threat. Geralt straightened up and used the flickering torch to illuminate his glowing eyes. "Yes that's clear. What's also clear is that I don't have to listen to you, or play by your rules. _I_ make my own rules and if you try and stop me from leaving this castle, I'll make sure I take you and your wretched family with me. Is that clear?"

For a moment, Geralt saw fear in Tywin's eyes and some humiliation. His pride had just been challenged and somewhat wounded.

"You will regret this insult. For now, take some time and weigh your options." Tywin slammed the door to his chambers in Geralt's face.

The next morning everyone in the castle left to attend the viewing of Joffrey's body in the Sept of Baelor. Geralt attempted to follow, but got lost more than once, so he returned back to the Red Keep. After a few hours of trying to visit Tyrion, he was summoned by a Lannister guard.

"Ser Geralt, the Queen commands your presence."

Geralt sighed. "I told you, I'm not-," He gave up in the middle of the sentence, figuring if they didn't get it now, they never would. "Which one?"

"The Queen Regent, Cersei Lannister."

"Joy," Geralt said monotonously as he followed the guard to the Queen's chambers. She sat waiting for him, not looking quite as radiant or as beautiful as before, as if the death of her son killed a small piece of her. Nonetheless, she motioned for Geralt to sit.

"Your Grace, I offer my deepest sympathies to you. No mother should have to bury her child."

"Thank you, but I know you're not sincere. You don't sound like it, at least. You have the same tone for every expression; I'm fairly certain you have no emotion."

"I do, just can't express them like normal people can."

Cersei smiled weakly and slid him a glass of wine. "So that's your front, is it? You tell yourself not to feel, so you think you don't?"

"I don't tell myself anything. I do feel, just as much as anyone else, and I know I do, I just don't show it very much."

Cersei sipped from her glass. "Did you feel sympathy then? When my son died before your eyes?"

Geralt cautiously sniffed the wine for any hints of poison. Not detecting any, he took a small sip, deciding to go slow to make sure he felt the effects if it was. "I did. I didn't like Joffrey much, not at all really, but I can't imagine losing a child. I speak from experience too, I spent months searching for my daughter, I…don't even like to think about what I would've done if she…died."

Cersei continued to drink uninterested. "Really? A daughter? Interesting. Look at me Geralt, I know you worked with Tyrion, made some sort of deal with him. You _must_ know something, I know you do."

Geralt stared at her for a moment. In her eyes, he saw a grieving mother and a desperate woman. "I know Tyrion didn't poison Joffrey. Nor did Sansa."

"Damn it! At what price did he buy your loyalty? Whatever it was I will match it a thousand times over! I will give you your heart's desires: land, a lordship, a holdfast, gold! Why do you lie for that little troll?"

"Nothing. He promised nothing but his unending gratitude. I haven't known him long, but he seems much too smart to poison Joffrey and stand right there and watch it happen. I believe he would've been very far away when it happened."

Cersei poured herself another glass, visibly calmer. "Yes, of course you believe that. You likely believe anything you're told, after all you said you weren't from here. Allow me to let you know where things stand. Tyrion has always hated me, been a jealous little lecher. And I've always hated him, since he tore open our mother to enter this world. He would stop at nothing to spite me at every turn and after Joffrey humiliated him, well I suppose that was the last straw. He poisoned him in front of all his subjects, I know it; I would bet my life on it."

Geralt stood, trying to leave to return to his chambers. "Of course, your Grace. Anything to get justice for your son." Geralt bowed and started toward his room.

Cersei scoffed and stood. "And where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you," She blocked the door, pushing Geralt back to his chair. "As you know there's to be a trial soon. Because apparently justice needs to be done, but it won't truly be served until Tyrion's head is on a spike. I don't know what he told you, but I know you know something. Testify for the Crown. Do the smart thing and side with the winning family. If you are not with us, you are against us."

"Guess we'll find out at the trial won't we?"

After a couple of days, Geralt had been attempting to visit Tyrion in the dungeons, but it took him by surprise when he was actually allowed in. He came to a dark but rather large cell and the guards unlocked the heavy door. Tyrion sat in a corner chained to a post. Geralt entered the cell and the door slammed behind him. Tyrion squinted in recognition at him.

"Ah, Geralt. How nice of you to visit. Even my dear brother hasn't a care to see me."

Geralt sat down on the cold cell floor across from Tyrion. "You didn't do it, did you? Kill Joffrey, I mean?"

"Geralt. Me and you are similar, you know. We both fight and give our lives for the ungrateful populace, who then turn against us as soon as something goes wrong. In my case, I try to do the best for the realm, for my family, and end up accused of killing my own kin. No, I hated that imbecile, but I did not poison him."

"I believe you. You don't strike me as the type of person who'd do that," Geralt paused to think. "Your sister, though, she seems convinced you did the deed. She thinks you hate her."

Tyrion sighed. "I do actually, it's a rather complicated relationship. But her one redeeming quality is her love for her children, and I would never rob her of that. I serve our family, the Lannister name, and I have always put our family before my own personal whims."

"Then your sister must really hate you, to want you dead. Why?"

"She's always hated me since our mother died giving birth to me. She is a spiteful creature, isn't she? Wait, you spoke with her?"

"I did. She asked me to testify against you."

Tyrion sighed sadly and looked Geralt in the eye. "Geralt, I cannot ask you to put your life on the line any longer. All this evidence is mounted against me, so it's inevitable I'll be executed. No need lose your head for my sake."

"I wouldn't be so sure. I followed Sansa the evening of the murder," Tyrion looked up with some hope. "She got on a ship with Joffrey's fool. I couldn't get close enough, but I think I heard a name like 'Baelish', or something."

Tyrion hopped up in realization. "Baelish! Gods, it all makes since now! A few months ago, Petyr Baelish set off for the Vale. He must have married Lysa Arryn and now he has her niece, the key to the North! That clever bastard!" Tyrion moved as close as to Geralt as his chains would let him. "Geralt…this is much more than I planned on asking, but… would you be willing to fight for me? There is a way we can completely avoid the trial."

"Personally, I would like to avoid bloodshed, but yeah, I think so."

"Good. The day of the trial I'm going to request a trial by combat. That means you'll be my champion, then-,"

Geralt shook his head in confusion. "Wait, what about what I just told you? What happened to the Baelish thing?"

"Ah, Geralt. Just because I place the blame on Baelish, that doesn't mean Cersei will be convinced, or anyone else for that matter. You talked to her yourself, you know she won't change her mind. She's set on seeing me hang. Unless you'd like to testify for me, I'd be extremely grateful, but I doubt it'll change much."

"I'll testify, who knows, she may just change her mind."

Tyrion shook Geralt's hand as he stood to leave. "For your sake, I hope she does."


End file.
